


Flashbacks

by ValBirch



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValBirch/pseuds/ValBirch
Summary: "Mike has gotten used to forgetting. He knows the memories will never go away. They are easier to manage now, but there are always signs, always triggers that bring the scenes of that night in Hawkins, nearly fifteen years ago, rushing to the surface of his consciousness. 
The jogger’s shirt had been pale pink, with white trim around the collar." 
A future fic that is (maybe) angsty, depending on how optimistic you are. Mike sits by the ocean and thinks about his past. And his present.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! This is just a little something that popped into my head today while I should have been doing school work. It's a short one-off piece that I hope you'll like. I think it's got a happy ending—what about you? Feedback and thoughts are always appreciated, but regardless, enjoy!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Val :)

The familiar smell of salt, pungent but almost sweet, lingers in the cool breeze that blows in off the Pacific. Waves crash against the shore rhythmically, methodically, almost like a metronome. It’s peaceful, calming. 

Not far off, the lights of Santa Monica pier shine, the Ferris wheel twinkling under the pale purple sky. From where he sits, resting atop an old blue blanket, feet digging in to the still-warm sand, Mike Wheeler can hear the soft din of laughter and the hum of voices ringing out in the still evening air, punctuated sometimes by the calling of seagulls. He quietly watches the sun sinking into the western horizon. 

A jogger crosses his line of sight; a young woman with a blonde ponytail and a golden lab running along beside her. He feels a pang of grief shoot through his stomach and wrap around his heart. 

Mike has gotten used to forgetting. He knows the memories will never go away. They are easier to manage now but there are always signs, always triggers that bring the scenes of that night in Hawkins, nearly fifteen years ago, rushing to the surface of his consciousness. 

The jogger’s shirt had been pale pink, with white trim around the collar.

It’s the same colour as that ridiculous old dress they had put Eleven in so that they could sneak her into the school; the same dress she had been wearing when she vanished, right before his eyes, leaving him with a giant hole in his heart and a fear of getting close to anyone, lest they too should vanish. These wounds have since healed, but the scars are permanent. 

_“Goodbye Mike.”_

Those words haunt him. He thinks they will forever, despite the happiness he has found.

“Daddy!” An excited, high-pitched, and nasally call pulls Mike from his reverie. He turns towards the voice to see a small girl, aged five, running towards him, dark brown pigtails blowing in the wind, chocolate ice cream teetering dangerously to the left side of the cone in which it is held. 

Mike shifts to his knees as the girl reaches his spot on the blanket. Even kneeling, he towers over her. 

“What have you got there, baby girl?” Mike asks, brushing a stray strand of hair from his daughter’s pale forehead. 

“Mommy let me get two scoops!” she replies proudly, smiling with crooked front teeth. 

“Oh, she did?” Mike looks up and over his daughter’s shoulder to where his wife now stands, casting a tall and protective shadow over them. Her eyes, that he loves so much, are hidden behind dark sunglasses. Her light brown hair cascades down her shoulders in soft waves. Mike can’t help being struck by her beauty every time he looks at her. 

She has two ice cream cones in her hand, both strawberry, and passes him one.

“She was very convincing.” 

“I bet,” Mike grins, licking the melting ice cream off the side of his cone. “Elise,” he meets his daughter’s eyes, “Are you going to finish all that?”

“Of course, daddy,” she says, already sure of herself. Elise settles down on the blanket, tucking her legs beneath her. Mike gives her a lopsided grin, stealing a bite of her ice cream as he gets to his feet and steps over to his wife’s side. 

Mike takes his wife’s hand and lifts her arm, gently pushing up the sleeve of her green sweater and kissing the small tattoo on her forearm. She smiles contentedly, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on her head, fixing him with a loving look from her warm brown eyes.


End file.
